


When This Love is Over

by takola



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fix-It, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-03 10:28:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13339338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takola/pseuds/takola
Summary: Set two years after the Movie's ending: Oliver teaches in Columbia and Elio is studying in Juilliard.Oliver's Fiancé reaches out to Elio to let him know some enlightening news.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So heres the thing; I'm not really a writer, as such. But this book (and movie) ripped my insides out, danced all over them and then insisted I fix it. So here I am.
> 
> This chapter is a bit of a prologue really, but I needed to get Elio to this place. It's angsty but hopeful I think, and there will be a happy ending. I merged the book/movie end scenes (the phone call mostly) because it fit me better.

 

_“I might be getting married in the spring.”_

The words played over and over in Elio’s mind, the joy of hearing Oliver’s voice merging, in his memory, with the dizzying sensation of his stomach falling.

The moon shone bright on the snow covering the ground below Elio’s balcony. The trees that had bloomed so beautifully in the summer were bare now, giving the grounds an eerie feeling. He watched as his fogged breath merged with the cigarette smoke floating in the air.

_“Do you mind?”_

He scoffed, rolling his eyes at the memory. Trust Oliver to ask the most ridiculous question after shattering Elio all over again. What did he expect to hear? Was Elio to protest? To insist Oliver not marry? That he remain frozen, as Elio seemed to be, in the memory of their love? 

He’d longed to say yes. “Yes, I mind! Please don’t. Please don’t, I don’t know if I can take it.”

“That’s wonderful news.” He said, instead, proud of how steady his voice sounded.

The urge to hang up the phone had been strong; the pain spreading through his chest robbing him of breath for a moment. He’d almost done it, too, before he heard his parents join the conversation. He’d used the time they’d taken in congratulations to draw deep breaths, try for composure, careful to angle the phone away so they wouldn’t hear his distress... had just about managed it when they hung up.

_“He made me feel like part of the family. Almost like a son in law.”_

Almost.

He did break then. “ _Elio. Elio Elio Elio Elio_ …”  Over and over he said it. It was at once, a prayer and a plea. An affirmation of all they were. He’d wanted Oliver to feel his loss as intensely as Elio felt his. Because Elio had lost so much of himself in Oliver and he’d taken those parts of Elio with him when he’d left. Elio had felt them rip from his chest as the train pulled out; sure he’d never be the same again.

And he wasn’t. There was an ache, both pressure and hollowness in his chest now, right below his sternum. He’d never known that grief could be physical until Oliver had left. It had been unbearable at the start and he’d fought it with everything inside himself. He had forced numbness, fighting the tears that always threatened. He’d slept as much as was possible but he wasn’t free from Oliver there. As much as he fought, he was never free of the ache. Oliver was all over this house. His ghost seemed to pass by each corridor just turning the corner out of Elio’s sight as he walked through. He’d avoided his spot in the back, too close to ‘Heaven’ to be a comfort. He’d avoided his piano; sure no solace could come when Oliver wouldn’t walk in and berate him to enjoy things as they were, not as they would be when influenced by outside forces. He’d even stayed in his grandfather’s room, unable to see Oliver’s absence in the bed they’d shared. And he’d be irrationally angry with Oliver because he got to leave. There was no Elio where Oliver was. It was Elio that had to suffer through every memory they had made and try to survive the empty space Oliver had inhabited.

His parents had been patient with him, as always. His mother would spend lazy afternoons reading to him, fingers stroking his hair as Elio cuddled into her, head on her lap like he had when he was sick as a small child. Mafalda had cooked his favourite meals, hoping to entice him to eat properly. Marzia came by often, never complaining when he said he didn’t feel up to going out. He’d even been allowed to beg off attending his parents various dinner parties without much complaint.

It was his father that reached him, finally. Summer was almost over; they would be returning to Milan soon. Elio had wandered aimlessly through the house listening as thunder roared overhead, before joining his father in the living room.  And his words had shattered Elio’s carefully constructed numbness, the distance he had forged in himself.

“ _We rip out so much of ourselves to be cured of things faster than we should that we go bankrupt by the age of thirty and have less to offer each time we start with someone new. But to feel nothing so as not to feel anything - what a waste!_ ”

Oliver was, of course, right. Elio was incredibly lucky. His father’s easy acceptance of his relationship with Oliver had allowed any feelings of shame to dissipate. His envy was the thing that made Elio realise the gift they’d been given though.

He had excused himself from dinner that evening, and slowly made his way to the room they had shared. Mafalda had already changed the bedclothes and the room lacked any sign of Oliver except in the closet, buried beneath Elio’s t-shirts, where he had stored billowy. He removed it carefully from the pile, slowly burying his face in it. It still smelled of Oliver and he reached into the pocket when he heard something crinkle. The note was still there, written in Oliver’s careful handwriting. “ _To Oliver, From Elio._ ”

He had carefully stripped of his own clothes and pulled billowy on, surrounding himself in Oliver’s scent. He made his way to bed, curling into the pillow Oliver’s head had lain on a few short weeks ago, and note still clutched in his hand, he had finally let the tears come.

In the weeks before they left for Milan, Elio allowed himself to bask in the memories of Oliver, no longer fighting the grief he felt. He lay alongside the pool reading, just as Oliver had done. He played his piano in both the original and variations of the pieces he was transcribing again. He went out dancing with Marzia and allowed his head to fall back and his body to move freely, just as he had watched Oliver do.

His life was not sad without Oliver. He felt pleasure and joy, and laughed as he had before they’d been together. It was just that now, the absence of Oliver was a physical ache below his sternum that Elio welcomed. It was a reminder that Oliver was real – that what they had had was real.

“ _Oliver…_ ” Elio shivered at the emotion in Oliver’s words. “ _I remember everything_.”

It seemed that Elio should hang up the phone then. No goodbyes. They hadn’t said them before and he wouldn’t say it now. It was obvious that while Oliver said he remembered everything, everything wasn’t enough. Not for Oliver who could so easily have fit into their family. Who so easily owned Elio, but moved forward with his own life. Four short months, that's all it had been and already, his future was mapped out.

Elio sighed, the familiar pain in his chest throbbing as he whispered, “Be happy, Oliver,” and carefully replaced the phone in its cradle.

 _Grow up,_ Oliver had written in his note and Elio thought he had grown plenty in the last few months. Somehow, he had come to accept that Oliver's absence was simply a part of him now, always there. Missing him was a constant state of being.

He watched from his balcony as a mirage of Oliver walked purposefully away from him, billowy floating behind him, long legs eating up the space quickly.

Elio let a smile touch his lips. He loved being in this house. If memories were to be all he had, he would keep them close to his heart, like watching a movie over and over so he never forgot a single detail.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is unedited, so I'm sorry for any mistakes! Please let me know if anything is glaringly wrong. 
> 
> Next chapter the boys are reunited!

  
2 years later

Oliver made his way through the busy restaurant, weaving between the tables effortlessly. He’d received the message that his parents were in town and wanted to see him for lunch only an hour before the assigned time, so he’d had to rush. And it was an assigned time, not an invitation. His father didn’t do invitations. Oliver had the sinking feeling that they had intentionally set this lunch date for a time when Sophia would not be available to attend with him. She was at the hospital today and even if they’d had notice, there was no chance she could make it due to her shift rotations.

He finally reached his parents table, greeting his mother with the dutiful kiss to the cheek and shaking his father’s hand. “I didn’t know you were going to be in town,” he said, as he took his seat.

“I had some meetings to attend,” his father said, “and we thought it would be a good time to see you. We have some things we need to discuss.”

Senator Seth Lieberman was a tall and handsome figure; blonde hair struck through with strands of grey, smile lines around his eyes and meticulously groomed, right down to his manicured nails. The navy Armani suit he wore was perfectly tailored around broad shoulders and devoid of even the minutest creases. Oliver had often wondered how his father managed to look so put together at all times, even throughout his political campaigns when his days were filled with travelling. Still, his father was not one to be caught dead looking anything but perfectly put together.

His mother was similar, the consummate politician’s wife. She hosted various charitable events at home in Connecticut and was always perfectly coiffed, her red hair pulled back in an elegant twist, make up light and natural on her beautiful face. Oliver looked down at his wrinkled shirt beneath his blazer, feeling ever more inadequate in their company. His hair had grown out slightly, falling into his eyes. He’d not had a chance to get a haircut in a while. Image was everything to the Lieberman’s and Oliver had never quite managed to live up to their expectations in that, or indeed, in any other area of his life. His father had expected Oliver to follow in his footsteps, becoming an attorney before running for political office. If it hadn’t been for the trust fund left to him by his grandmother upon her death, Oliver would have been forced to follow his father’s plan for him. He’d come into the trust fund on his eighteenth birthday, however, and had left his father incandescent with rage when he’d firmly, but with trembling hands, told him he would be studying history, with plans to follow up with the classics graduate program in Columbia. He’d managed to support himself through college with no help from his parents, working in bars to pay the rent while the trust fund paid the exorbitant student fees. It was one thing he was very proud of – he had managed to live financially independent of his parents since his first year of college. Still, he was never quite free from their expectations of him, and no matter how much he tried, he was always eager for their approval.

“We do?” Oliver asked as he perused the menu. They had chosen one of the more expensive restaurants, of course, and while he could well afford the meal on his professor salary, he still cringed at the idea of spending $50 on a mere salad.  
“We do,” Seth said, looking stern. “It has been two years now, Oliver. It’s time to get married. It’s bad enough that you two have been living together all this time, but I can’t keep defending your choice to do so while unmarried. It looks bad!”

“We’re worried, darling,” Ada took over, with a chiding look at her husband. “How is Sophia going to juggle being a doctor with being a mother? It really is time she gave up this ridiculous career and began to make a home for you and the family you will have.”

Oliver wished he could say he was surprised. He wasn’t though. His parent’s approval of Sophia had evaporated when they’d decided to live “in sin” and they had been subtlety nudging Oliver towards ending their engagement with barbed comments about how unsuitable she would be to parenting, considering she favoured her career over marriage. And Oliver was a coward. He didn’t have the nerve to tell his parents that their engagement was a sham to protect him from their machinations. He knew it was high time to put his foot down and tell them he wouldn’t be marrying at all because he was in love with a man. It didn’t matter that he and Elio had long since lost touch and would likely never see each other again. Oliver knew that there would be no other for him.

But he also knew that the moment his parents became aware of his inclinations, they would disown him forever, and he didn’t know how he would handle that. It was a strange feeling, really. His parents had never been particularly affectionate, not like the Perlman’s or even Sophia’s parents. Yet Oliver didn’t know who he was if he wasn’t Senator Lieberman’s son. It was as though so much of his own sense of identity and self was tied up in his parents. He needed their love and acceptance and despite never having quite achieved it, he spent so much of his time, even now at 26 years old, attempting to.

At least now he knew for certain that they had notified him so late of this lunch so they could get him alone.

“Sophia will be a wonderful mom when the time is right for her, Mother,” he replied, linking his fingers on the table. And you both know that we’re not ready to get married yet.”

Seth glared at him. “This is ridiculous, Oliver! You both agreed to a spring wedding when we brought it up two years ago. We have been more than patient. If Sophia is not ready to get married then it is time for you to end this farce of an engagement and find a woman who is.”

The problem was that they hadn’t ‘brought it up.’ They had decided that a spring wedding in their home, a sprawling mansion in Connecticut, would be the perfect opportunity to promote the Senator’s ‘blissful’ family life and at the time, neither Oliver nor Sophia had been able to argue. Of course, they hadn’t agreed either but that was inconsequential to Oliver’s father.

Just as Oliver was about to remind them of that fact, a waiter arrived with two more guests they hadn’t mention would be joining them.

“David,” His father stood to greet the man, shaking hands, “how lovely to see you.”

Alongside the man was a strikingly beautiful young woman. Her long blonde hair fell around bare shoulders and her strapless black dress showed off a gorgeous figure. She stood tall, a good head about his mother’s 5’5” height.

“Jessica, darling!” His mother greeted enthusiastically, hugging the girl. “Oliver, I’d like you to meet Jessica Anderson. And this is her father, David Anderson. He used to work with your father in the law firm.” Oliver shook their hands and retook his seat, fighting the urge to bang his head against the table. They couldn’t possibly be serious. They were setting him up on a date while he was still engaged? At least as far as they knew.

Jessica seemed an altogether charming girl, if you viewed her from the perspective of his parents. She was beautiful, well-educated and gave all the correct answers. She was 23, had graduated with a degree in Humanities at 21 and her real passion was to become a wife and mother. She simply could not wait to have children. His mother’s eyes gleamed as they spoke. Oliver stayed calm throughout the several barbed comments made towards Sophia who was “wonderful, really but such a career minded girl, you understand? I simply don’t know if she will ever find the time to marry our dear Oliver.”

Oliver didn’t say much throughout the meal but anger simmered within him. They made Sophia’s wish to be a doctor seem like something to be ashamed of! She had worked tirelessly since she was 17, and finally, now at 25 she was doing her residency. Oliver was incredibly proud of her, more so because people judged her so harshly for not simply settling down and having children. The desire to tell them, ‘well, actually I’m in love with a man, I have been for over 2 years now. How about looking into changing the laws against gay marriage, Father? Then I’d be more than happy to get married.” He could just imagine his parents alarm and disgust. The uproar if the press found out that the great Senator Lieberman’s son liked men? It might just ruin his father’s career.

He excused himself early from lunch, much to his parents’ consternation, claiming a lecture he was due to give and promising to call them soon.

_____________________

He was grading papers when Sophia came home that evening and flopped onto the sofa, still in her blue scrubs. She pulled her hair from her loose bun and sighed as her brown curls fell past her shoulders and she massaged her scalp with nimble fingers.

“Dinners in the oven,” He said, smiling when she jumped to check and moaned with pleasure upon seeing the lasagne he’d made. It was her favourite. He’d asked Mafalda for her recipe and having followed the instructions exactly, he was pretty sure he’d knocked it out of the park. Either way, when he’d made it for Sophia upon his return, she’d loved it, so he made it often.

“I might actually marry you yet, if you keep cooking for me,” she teased. Oliver laughed, putting his papers aside and fetching two glasses and the bottle of Merlot he’d bought earlier.

“How was your day?” he asked.

“Looong,” she groaned, stretching. “I had a twelve year old with two broken toes because his friends decided it would be hilarious to paint a cannonball so it looked like his football. Were we as awful as teenagers?”

“Of course not, we were perfect angels.” He handed her a glass of Merlot, raising an eyebrow before asking, “Though, remember when we put food colouring into Mr Johnson’s shower gel? He had to drive home with his skin stained. Everyone called him ‘Ol’ Yeller’ for weeks!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Sophia smirked at him. “You look stressed. Bad day?”

“My parents summoned me to lunch.” He rose to fetch Sophia’s dinner from the oven, plating it before handing it to her. Sophia ate on the couch after a shift, not at all bothered with manners or etiquette. It was part of the reason Oliver loved her.

“Aah,” she said in understanding. “And how are the wonderful Lieberman’s?”

Sophia’s dislike of his parents ran deep. She had come from a loving family; the kind who gave affection without thought and supported each other no matter what. She was the middle child and had two older brothers and one younger sister. Her parents were incredibly proud of their daughter, the doctor, and had no problem showing it. They bragged about it often, and were always delighted to hear how her residency was going. They weren’t a wealthy family by any means, but they had done their best to support their children in their various careers. Still, Sophia had worked throughout her studies, supporting herself for the most part.

“Impatient,” Oliver sighed. “They actually introduced me to the daughter of my father’s friend from his old law firm.”

Sophia chuckled, her smile fading into sadness. “Well, we knew we couldn’t keep up this act forever.” Oliver nodded at her.

“Isn’t it time to tell them who you are?” They’d had this conversation many times in the last two years. The first of which had taken place the night his parents had announced they would marry in spring. Oliver had spent quite some time in the shower after the final call to Elio. He had been completely gutted by Elio’s quiet acceptance of his engagement.

He’d found Sophia sat on his bed, knees tucked against her chest, when he came out. She’d smiled gently, patting the mattress and he joined her, sitting with his back against the headboard.

“Will you tell me about Italy?” Her voice was soft, hesitant, as though she already knew this would be the end of them.

He was terrified. What if he lost her? What if she hated him? His stomach twisted and his fists clenched but he swallowed the fear and spoke anyway.

He told her everything; about the Perlman’s, Mafalda, Manfredi, Anchise, even his poker nights. And then finally, about Elio; beautiful, intelligent, talented, brave Elio. How he had spent weeks hiding from his attraction but had been unable to stop himself from falling in love with Elio. He had recounted how they had finally gotten together, how they had spent days wrapped up in each other. How he had willingly abandoned himself to Elio, only to be welcomed by him in a way no other person had ever allowed. He told her of their magical time in Rome and the absolute agony of their final goodbye, not quite realising until then that tears had been falling steadily throughout.

When he looked up he realised Sophia was crying too. “Oh God, I’m so sorry.” He whispered, brokenly, and she moved into his arms. “I’m so sorry,” He whispered again, and she shook her head against his shoulder. “I didn’t want to hurt you, Soph, I swear I didn’t.”

She pulled back, cupping his face in her hands. “I’m not hurt, silly!” She laughed through her tears. “I’m crying for you! God, Oliver, you have to go back! You have to go back to Italy.”

“What?” He’d asked, dumbstruck.

Sophia rolled her eyes at him, exasperatedly. “You think I haven’t noticed how sad you’ve been since you got back? You’re so unhappy here, Oliver. You should be with him, your Elio.”

His answering laugh held more than a bit of hysteria. He’d underestimated Sophia. Of course she would offer acceptance effortlessly. Of course she would hurt for him. They had been best friends since they were 15 years old and while they had only been in an intimate relationship for a short time, it had been nothing on the intensity or intimacy he had shared with Elio. But they loved each other fiercely nonetheless. They hadn’t been intimate since before Oliver’s trip. He found he was unable to share himself with her that way now. His body and soul belonged solely to Elio and to allow another hand touch him felt like a betrayal he simply couldn’t withstand.

“I’ve already told him of our engagement. He’s moving on. He’s so young; I’m probably already a sweet memory for him. I can’t go back now.” His heart broke as he said the words, feeling them settle into his bones. Elio was it for him, but he couldn’t expect Elio to wait for him, not when he was so young and had so much ahead of him. It was better to let him go, to love him from afar.

“You don’t think he felt the same for you as you for him?” Sophia asked, her brown eyes bright with unshed tears.

“He felt it. I know he felt it. But he’s young, so young. He has everything ahead of him. I can’t ask him to wait for me.”

She shook her head, pushing his hair back from his face. “Shouldn’t that be his choice?”

They had talked for the rest of the night. Sophia had finally suggested that they tell his parents she wasn’t ready to get married yet but keep up the engagement sham to keep his parents happy. Money was tight for her, so Sophia had moved in with him, using the second bedroom of his apartment as her own. But Oliver was aware at this point that he was blocking Sophia’s future. She could not attempt to form a relationship while she was supposedly engaged to Oliver and while she insisted she had no wish to have a relationship right now, too busy with her residency, he knew she was worried about him.

“You know I can’t tell them. They’d never forgive me.” He told her, voice hollow.

“You’re my favourite person in the world, you know?” She asked, and Oliver raised his eyebrows in question. “There’s nothing to forgive, Ollie. You’ve done nothing wrong. If they can’t see that, they don’t deserve you.”

He kissed her forehead as he took her plate from her and washed it in the sink. He knew she was right, logically at least. His heart couldn’t quite accept the loss of his parents, however.

“You’ll always have a family.” She told him, rising from the couch and heading towards her room. “My parents adore you, and you know they’ll expect you at their table regardless of whether we’re together or not. You deserve to be happy. You’re a good person. And it’s high time you contacted Elio. He deserves to know that you still love him.”

She closed her bedroom door softly and Oliver went back to his grading, though her words stayed with him for the rest of the evening.


	3. Chapter 3

_19/10/1984_

_Dear Elio,_

_I’m probably the last person in the world you expected to hear from. My name is Sophia Davis and I have been Oliver’s fiancé for the past two years. I hope you won’t mind my reaching out to you but when Samuel mentioned that you were in university here in New York, I just had to. He was gracious enough to give me your address. Did you know you live within a half hour walk from Oliver and I?_

_Forgive me, you likely hate my guts. I think I would hate yours if our positions were reversed. I have so much I want to tell you but most of it is not mine to tell. I will say that Oliver and I have no plans to marry. I think our engagement will be broken soon (by mutual agreement, mind). Oliver is my best friend, I love him dearly._

_I am not entirely sure that you will want to visit us, but I hope you will. I want to meet you so much, and I hope that at some point, we will be friends. I have included Oliver’s schedule with this letter (he teaches at Columbia these days, did you know?) in case you want to visit him. I hope you do. I know he’d be thrilled to see you. I’ve also included our phone number, just in case._

_I will understand if we don’t hear from you. I have not told Oliver of my plans to write this letter so he isn’t waiting. And he’s well; he loves teaching. He’s working on a second book too. Life is good for him. So please don’t feel there is pressure on you if you would rather stay away. Nobody would judge you harshly for that._

_If I don’t have a chance to meet you, I’d like you to know that I have heard such wonderful things about you and I wish you all the happiness in the world._

_Sophia_

Elio ran the letter through his fingers again, shoulders hunched against the cold that was seeping into the New York air. He still didn’t know what to make of it. Why would Oliver’s fiancé want him to see Oliver? And why, when she says their engagement is about to be broken, does she still refer to them as ‘us’, as though they are a package deal? The letter was infuriatingly vague. Had Oliver told her about them? But if he had, surely she would want Elio as far from them as possible? Shouldn’t Oliver have been the one to reach out if his engagement was over and he wanted Elio in his life again? Surely his father had told Oliver how close Elio was. Though Elio, himself, had had no idea he lived so close. He’d looked up the number she’d left in the phone book and the address it matched was only twenty minutes away, a little over half way between his apartment and Columbia University.

God, he had so many questions. Did he want to see Oliver? The answer was yes, of course he did! But could he take it? Could he accept Oliver as a friend, knowing how he felt about him? Could he watch as Oliver eventually got married (even if it was to a new woman) and had a family? That, he wasn’t sure of at all. Wouldn’t he just long for him as he had during the first weeks Oliver had been with them. It would be torture and Elio feared he would grow to hate Oliver for not loving Elio in the way he was supposed to; for not feeling that Elio was enough. The very thought of it hurt.

He removed the schedule from his pocket, checking it again despite having memorised it already. Oliver had a lecture at four pm. Elio could get to the campus by three. Maybe he could catch a glimpse without being seen. He might have a better idea of what to do if he could just see Oliver once, from a safe distance.

Mind made up, he grabbed his backpack from the bench he’d been sitting on, slung it over his shoulders and jumped on his bike leaving no time to talk himself out of the idea again.

_____________

It took him a while but he eventually found the lecture hall Sophia had scrawled on the schedule. He checked his watch and saw that he had plenty of time, so he wandered in, inspecting the room. The walls were a dull beige and rows and rows of red clothed seats ascended in three aisles to the back of the room. Muted grey carpet covered the aisle floors, moving to a grey lino for the front of the room. He walked to the lectern in the centre of the room, tracing his fingers over the warm pine gently. It felt surreal knowing Oliver had touched where his fingers lay; had looked out at his students from this very spot. Elio wondered what he was like as a teacher. It was likely half of the students attended lectures just to drool over him and he smiled at the thought. As if in a daze, he walked to the top of the room, making his way into the back row. He’d only intended to stay for a moment, sneaking back out again before anyone arrived but he heard voices on their way in and scrambled into the corner, sitting on the floor with his back to the wall, hidden behind the desks and calling himself every kind of idiot imaginable. He was stuck now. How was he going to explain why he’d been there if caught?

He pulled his knees to his chest and buried his face in his arms, hoping he could fake sleep or something. How had he managed to get himself into this situation?!

He heard the door open and the voices became clear, both male. Elio recognised Oliver’s instantly and stiffened. God, that voice! He had missed it desperately. Goosebumps rose on his skin and he shivered, not processing a single word of the conversation, lost instead in the cadence of Oliver’s voice, sounding bright and happy, interspersed with laughter. He was right there. Oliver was right there and if Elio stood, made some kind of noise, did something, they would be in each other’s orbit again. But he remained frozen, so completely overwhelmed by the prospect. He couldn’t even lift his head, couldn’t look. And then his chance was gone as students made their way into the class, greeting Oliver cheerfully before taking their seats. The row he hid behind remained empty and he thanked the Lord for it. He could only imagine the humiliation if he was called out now.

He listened as Oliver called the class to order and allowed himself to relax into the lesson. Oliver was a good teacher. He had the ability to draw his students out, make the class interactive and it was obvious he took pleasure in his work. He was eager and encouraging, even when students took longer than usual to grasp his point, guiding them toward the connections he wanted them to make. He offered praise freely and was honest when someone made him think about the topic from a new perspective, never dismissing their views or insisting they were wrong, even when they disagreed with him. Elio loved that he was able to witness this side of Oliver.

The hour seemed to fly by and Elio had quickly realised as he basked in the simple presence of Oliver that he didn’t have the ability to walk away from him a second time. He was hyper aware of Oliver’s proximity and was already right back in their early weeks, longing for Oliver’s attention to be on him. Every word Oliver said flowed over him like a caress and Elio was envious of every student his gaze touched, each word of praise given, and the slightest bit of attention. _Grow up_. he thought exasperatedly but he knew it was no good. He’d been mature before, wishing Oliver well and letting him move on with his life. But now, as he sat needing him desperately all over again, Elio knew he would accept whatever part of Oliver he could have, even if it hurt. Elio was only now realising how empty he had felt in Oliver’s absence. Some people were worth the pain, and Elio was realising that not only was Oliver worth it, but he was too.

Oliver ended the class for the day, reminding everyone of their scheduled reading for next class, and Elio lifted his head as he heard the students begin to shuffle papers back into bags. He stood slowly, body stiff from being curled up for so long and smiled sheepishly when one of the girls in the class met his eyes curiously. He made his way down the aisle, following the steps to the front of the class where Oliver was speaking to a couple of students, his back to Elio. His hair was shorter now, cut closer on each side from what Elio could see and the brown jacket he wore hugged his shoulders. He was sat against a table beside the lectern; long legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles. Elio could see him smiling in profile and took in the sight of this Oliver. New York Oliver. He was paler than he’d been when he’d left Italy two years ago, and the shadow of a beard showed against the skin of his cheeks. He smiled brightly at the girl he was speaking to, wishing her well as she left. Elio realised he was the last one in the lecture hall, everyone else having filed out while he had been staring, mesmerised.

“So, I guess I should call you ‘Prof’ now, eh?” He said, smiling nervously and watched as Oliver’s head whipped up from where he’d been packing his bag.

“Elio?” Oliver whispered, looking dumbstruck.

“Uh, hi,” He said, eyes on the floor as he took the last step down from the aisle.

Oliver was on him before he’d had a chance to look back up, arms around him, holding so tight that Elio could barely breathe. He buried his head in Elio’s neck, breathing deep before he whispered, “I can’t believe it, it’s really you. You’re here!”

Elio twisted his hands into the back of Oliver’s jacket, not caring if he creased it. Oliver's scent reminded him of sun filled days and fresh cut grass. They held tight for a moment that lasted an eternity, silent and wrapped up in each other.

Eventually Oliver pulled back, cupping Elio’s face and staring at him. “How did you find me?” He asked, exhilarated laughter following the words. “How are you here?”

“Um,” Elio dragged the letter from his pocket, crumpled now from repeated readings and handed it to Oliver, watching as he read it.

Oliver shook his head disbelievingly. “I guess I should have seen this coming.” He told Elio, grabbing his hand and pulling him back towards the desk.

He shoved his papers into his bag haphazardly, not seeming to notice when some of the pages ripped. After a second he turned back to Elio, a bright grin on his face.

“Wow, I can’t believe it,” Oliver pulled him back into his arms, tucking Elio’s head under his chin. “It’s so good to see you.”

Elio nodded, resting his head against Oliver’s racing heart and grinning hard at the welcome he’d received. It was only as it released that he realised his stomach had knotted with nerves, fearful of his reception. But Oliver’s blatant joy upon seeing him had relieved those fears and he felt light-headed and giddy with relief and his own joy.

“Will you have dinner with me?” Oliver asked. “I’m sure you have questions.”

“Only a million,” Elio answered dryly and was pretty sure the world could see him glow when Oliver laughed, loud and delighted, the sound filling the room.

“Me too, El, me too” He said, pulling away to grab his bag and hold the door for Elio as he followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the lovely comments. I'm not ignoring them, I promise, I'm just trying to get this fic written while it's fresh in my mind. I have a fair idea where it's going and I think it will be 5 or maybe 6 chapters in total. I hope to finish writing it in the next week. The comments have meant the world and encouraged me so much! 
> 
> Again, this is self edited so please let me know if there are any glaring errors. I know lecture halls aren't usually left open or whatever, but it was the 80s, what do we know? 
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed their reunion!


	4. Chapter 4

They walked to a steak joint Oliver liked fairly close to campus. They were quiet during the walk, each with hands in their pockets but their shoulders brushed often and they caught each other’s eyes regularly, as though both expected the other to disappear and they needed to check it hadn’t happened. Elio felt as though he would wake at any moment, reaching across his bed for Oliver as he’d done so many times before.

The server, a slim and pretty girl with red hair pulled atop her head in a messy twist that was somehow held there with only a pen, greeted Oliver cheerfully by name before leading them to a booth and handing over menus. “Can I get you guys anything to drink?”

“Just water for me, Jess,” Oliver replied, raising his eyebrows questioningly at Elio who smiled at the server and requested the same.

The booths had looked spacious before they’d factored in their respective heights. Their knees knocked together awkwardly beneath the table and they shifted in their seats a bit before getting comfortable. Once settled they stared at each other; silently cataloguing the changes. Elio had been right; Oliver’s hair was shorter now and his face leaner. His smile was breath-taking and delight emanated from every inch of him, it seemed. He knocked his feet against Elio’s before pulling away again.

“Sorry,” he laughed, looking sheepish. “I still can’t believe you’re here. You look good. I like your hair like this.”

Elio flattened his hands down over the mop on his head. A mixture of laziness and lack of time meant he’d not bothered to cut his hair in an age and it fell in loose curls to his ears these days. He was glad of the extra length as winter took hold of the city.

“Thanks,” he said, smiling. “You look good too. I’ve missed your face.”

He wanted the words back almost as soon as they left his mouth. Oliver was going to think him just as foolish as before. He opened the menu and studied it with all the concentration of someone translating an ancient scroll, hoping he could move the conversation along. “What’s good to eat here?”

“Elio.”

“The burgers look good,” he babbled, unable to look Oliver in the eye.

“Elio,” Oliver repeated, reaching across to take his hand. His skin was warm against Elio’s palm and he squeezed as he said, “I missed you too.”

The words held weight, settling in Elio’s chest and he finally met Oliver’s eyes, acknowledging them with a nod. He felt as though he’d been caught at sea without an oar, not sure how to find his way back to solid ground. He squeezed back gently, nodding again before he let the moment pass, pulling his hand away from Oliver and returning his attention to the menu.

“And yes, the burgers are good.” Oliver told him as Jess returned with a jug of ice water and glasses. They ordered, the burger for Elio and steak for Oliver, and let the conversation turn to light-hearted topics.

Elio updated Oliver on his parents; they were travelling, in Belgium at the moment while his father delivered a series of lectures for a conference. They would visit France next and had several stops throughout Britain before they returned to Italy in December. Elio was expecting to spend the holidays in the villa with them before he returned to New York.

The conversation flowed easily from there, barely halting when the food came. Oliver told him he’d spent a short time lecturing in London the previous year before he’d accepted the post in Columbia University. Elio mentioned that he’d been caught between the Royal College of Music in London and Julliard but had figured the latter had the better course in Composition. Oliver nodded along enthusiastically, wondering aloud how it hadn’t occurred to him that Elio would study in such a prestigious school, considering his intellect and musical abilities. Elio rolled his eyes, even as a blush stained his cheeks.

His parents had wanted him to have an “authentic college experience” so he was renting a house with four other students at Juilliard. Anna and Sarah were studying drama, Justin was a dancer and Lisa played the violin and shared most of Elio’s classes. He’d been a little worried about sharing a house at the beginning, he confided. What if they partied too much and it affected his practise time or studies? Oliver was quick to remind Elio that that was expected of students. Nevertheless, they were well matched, all serious about their studies. That didn’t mean they didn’t party, of course. They just tended to do so away from the house. They discussed his lecturers and Oliver told him of his colleagues, his curriculum and what his course was focused on at the moment. Elio called attention to his presence in today’s lesson when he mentioned Petrarch’s Latin works on the Roman General Scipio Africanus and Oliver stared at him quizzically.

“You were there for the whole lesson?” He asked. “How did you get in without my seeing you?”

Elio blushed violet as he explained how he’d found himself trapped at the back of the room. His blush wasn’t helped in the slightest when Oliver laughed himself almost to the point of illness.

“I hadn’t intended to speak to you.” Elio told him and Oliver sobered quickly.

“You didn’t?”

Elio shook his head. “I received the letter four days ago. I’ve been trying to figure out what to do and I thought, maybe if I just saw you, no interaction, maybe then I’d know what I was supposed to do.”

Oliver sighed. “I was worried this might happen.”

Elio cocked his head in confusion.

“I don’t want you to feel obligated to see me. That summer was beautiful; it was one of the best parts of my life. But that doesn’t mean we get to carry it forward with us. Sometimes, the best thing we can do is remember it fondly and let it go.”

Elio felt ice grip his heart and his mind raced. “You didn’t know I was in New York?”

Oliver shook his head. “No, Sam doesn’t speak of you much.”

Curious, considering Oliver’s fiancé clearly knew enough about what was going on with Elio.

“If you’d known I was here, would you have reached out to me?” He asked, though he was frightened he already knew the answer.

Oliver shook his head, his eyes on the table where he tapped out a rhythm with his fingers. “I don’t think so, no.”

Elio felt tears well in his eyes and blinked them away quickly. Confusion was sharp edged, tearing at his insides. Was this a malicious joke? Had Sophia known Oliver didn’t want him in his life and she’d written to remind them both of the fact? But why did Oliver light up when he saw Elio? Why had he hugged him, held his hand? It made no sense. He needed to leave, he couldn’t take this.

Panic clawed inside him and he made a show of checking his watch.

“Sorry, I have to get back.” He told Oliver hurriedly as he pulled his wallet out and fished around inside.

“Wha- No, Elio, I’ll get this.” Oliver argued as Elio placed the bills on the table and slid out of the booth. He thanked the server as she passed him and left the restaurant at a jog, needing to be as far from Oliver as possible.

He’d crossed the road before Oliver caught up, pulling him to a stop with a look of hurt and confusion twisting his features. “Elio, wait! What’s wrong?”

Elio backed away, Oliver’s hands on him even through his jacket was too much. “Sorry,” he choked out, “I remembered I have practise this evening, I’m late.”

“But you didn’t give me your number. I have no way of contacting you.”

Elio shook his head and started walking again. He needed to collect his bike from the Columbia campus. He was tempted to leave it behind; he’d be fine walking to and from his classes. But he preferred cycling and he liked that bike. He’d tied it up close to here, he was sure of it.

Oliver stepped in front of him, holding his hand against Elio’s chest and blocking his path. “Can you explain what just happened?” He asked, moving to block Elio again when he tried to walk around him. “Elio!”

“What?” He snapped back. “What do you want?”

Oliver’s eyes sparked with temper now too. “You don’t just get to show up on my door and then disappear with no explanation!”

“If it was up to you, I’d never have shown up anyway so what difference does it make? I won’t bother you again.”

It was Oliver’s turn to retreat now and Elio stepped around him quickly, finally spotting his bike. “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded,” Oliver called after him and Elio stopped, turned to face him.

“Then what did you mean?” He asked.

“It wouldn’t have been fair for me to come looking for you.” Oliver walked towards him, long strides eating up the space. Elio frowned at him.

“I don’t want to hold you back. I’m just a guy you spent a fun couple of weeks with. I don’t expect to be any more than that to you. So I wouldn’t have called you. You’re in your first year of college. There will be lots of guys and girls that you fall in love with. My calling would have been like trying to hold on to something beautiful, only to watch it spoil.”

Elio looked away, jaw tense and hands on his hips as he tried to absorb the words. How could someone so intelligent in so many ways be so dense when it came to Elio? He wanted to shake him. Or maybe kiss him but this was not the place and Oliver was not his to kiss. Not anymore.

“You’re engaged.” He said, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly, trying to shield himself somewhat from the words.

“We haven’t been together since the night I called you to give you the news. It’s a long story. We share an apartment, and my parents think we’re engaged but we have separate rooms and haven’t been together for a long time. We’re just friends.” Oliver stepped closer, reaching out for him but Elio stepped back, too raw and overwhelmed to be touched right now. He needed time.

He pulled his bag from his back and rooted for some paper and a pen. Finding them, he quickly scratched his phone number on to the page.

He stepped forward, slamming the page against Oliver’s chest, waiting for his hand to come up and take it, holding on to Elio’s also. “You are my first love. And if you think that being with you would hold me back, you’re a bigger fool than you know, Oliver Lieberman because I have belonged to you since the day Anchise delivered you to our doorway. And for me, there are no others.”

He ripped his hand free from Oliver’s, climbed atop his bike and was gone before another word could be spoken.

____________

He made it home in record time, fleeing from Oliver as though the hounds of hell chased him. He didn’t know what to make of the situation and realised that while they’d spent more than two hours talking, he hadn’t had the chance to ask any of his questions and he still wasn’t sure what part, if any, of Oliver he was going to have. Why did his parents still think Oliver was engaged? Did Oliver want to be with him? They hadn’t said the L word that summer. But Elio had flung it at Oliver tonight with all the force of a whip, a punishment rather than a declaration. It wasn’t how he had wanted to tell Oliver.

His mind was a mess and he found himself unable to sit still long enough to get any study done. He played the piano he’d had installed in the living room but after an hour, Justin had complained that he was giving them all a headache and dragged him in to watch a movie instead. The five of them sprawled out on the sofas, heads in each other’s laps and popcorn spread strategically between them while they watched the Breakfast Club.

He was feeling better by the time he made it to bed, but he was aware that his life had been turned upside down and all the pieces weren’t going to fit back into their spaces anymore. One way or another, change was on the cards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was harder than I thought it would be. And it did not go at all the way I expected. But I hope you all liked it!
> 
> Thanks again for the comments, I love them! 
> 
> As always, self-edited, so please let me know of any glaring errors.


	5. Chapter 5

  
Oliver watched Elio disappear on his bike, the urge to follow him overwhelming. He’d just gotten him back. He wasn’t ready to let him go yet! He checked the paper Elio had shoved at him, tucked it carefully into his pocket and began his walk home.

Elio had been even more beautiful than Oliver remembered. He had grown another inch, body lithe and angular. He was tall but didn’t have the clumsy lack of co-ordination that had plagued Oliver at that age. He had often thought Elio’s was a body made to dance, all long limbs and effortless grace. He had moments of such intense shyness though, where he folded in on himself, took up less space as though making himself a smaller target. He’d looked that way when he’d flung Oliver’s engagement at him, hands on his hips, shoulders hunched slightly forward, always with his tongue against his cheek and eyes looking anywhere but at Oliver. His attempt at nonchalance hadn’t hidden the hurt that had radiated from him and Oliver had longed to take him in his arms, hold him. He had even reached for him, public place be-damned but Elio had pulled back before he could reach him. He forgot himself so quickly in Elio’s presence. He was close to the university; they could have been seen and he’d not given it a second thought. It simply hadn’t seemed important in the face of an upset Elio.

He wanted to call as soon as he made it through the door, just to hear Elio’s voice, ask when they could see each other again. Perhaps Elio would like to join him for his morning jog? He shook his head, laughing. God, he needed to calm down. He was acting like a teenager, feeling like a teenager! No, Elio had seemed rattled. He needed some time to cool off. He would give it a few days, then call him and see if he wanted to meet up again.

He forced himself to settle enough to get some work done and was in the middle of lesson plans when Sophia came through the door.

“You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” He tried to sound angry but he simply couldn’t keep the smile from his face.

“Huh?” Sophia asked distractedly, dropping her bag on the floor by the door and hanging her jacket on the coat hooks. She looked tired, hair dishevelled and dark circles under her eyes. Thinking on it, Oliver remembered that he hadn’t seen her in a couple of days. He rose from his chair and moved to the kitchen, checking the cupboards and fridge to see what kind of meal he could cobble together.

“Elio?” He pulled out some chicken, placing it on a chopping board with some onions, mushrooms and peppers. He turned to face Sophia, watching a smile blossom on her face. “He called?” she asked.

“Ha! Not quite!”

He relayed the events of his day as he chopped and fried the chicken with the vegetables. Sophia laughed hysterically when he told her of how Elio had gotten trapped in his lecture, the kind of laughter that came with exhaustion. She let her face fall into her hands when he got to the argument.

“God, Oliver! What did you expect him to think?” Her frustration was obvious as she dragged her hands through her hair.

“I didn’t think!”

She shook her head. “What happened?”

“He left. Flew out of the place like he couldn’t get away from me fast enough. I caught up to him though and explained that I didn’t want to hold him back.” He plated the food and set it in front of Sophia who smiled gratefully.

“And that was when he told me that I was a fool to think that being with me could hold him back because he’s mine and has been all along.” He knew he had a sappy smile on his face but he was powerless to get rid of it. Love overwhelmed him, filling his chest and spreading through his body until he was sure he would explode with it.

“Awwww!” Sophia wailed and promptly burst into tears.

“Hey! Hey hey, what’s wrong?” Oliver rounded the counter and gathered her into his arms. She shook her head against his chest even as she returned the hug, resting against him.

“Nothing’s wrong,” She said. “I’m so happy. I’m so happy for you, Oliver. And I can’t wait to meet him.”

She pulled back, wiping her face and smiling wearily. “Sorry, I’m just exhausted. I need to get some sleep.” She made a decent attempt to eat the food he'd prepared and drink a glass of water.

Just as Sophia stood from her seat, the phone began to ring. The answering machine caught the call and Oliver stiffened as his mother’s voice filled the room.

“Oliver, it’s your mother, dear. Just calling to say hello. I know you’re busy darling but is it really too much to ask that you call us a little more often? We haven’t heard from you in weeks! Anyway, I hope you’ve been thinking about what we discussed at lunch, I know it’s very important to your father. Speaking of which, you remember Jessica? Lovely girl, Oliver, really! Well, she mentioned during a recent phone call how much she enjoyed your company at lunch that day. I knew you wouldn’t mind my passing along your number. I told her you’d love to meet her for lunch again, so I’d imagine you’ll receive a call soon. Do let me know how you get on, dear. I’ll be waiting for your call! Say hello to Sophia from us.”

The click of the call ending left a deafening silence. Sophia rested her head against Oliver’s shoulder, wrapping her arms around his waist in another hug.

“I guess not everything is settled just yet.”

“Yeah,” Oliver sighed and dread filled his chest as he thought of the inevitable call from Jessica. Why couldn’t his parents mind their own business?

“You get to bed,” he told Sophia, pushing her gently in the direction of her room. “I’ll sort this out.”

The excitement had dimmed and reality was reinserting itself fast. As he washed the dishes from Sophia’s dinner, he thought about how he was going to tell his parents that he was bisexual. He knew he was going to have to. It was only the way he was going to move past their ridiculous attempts to set him up.

______________

He mulled over the problem during his morning jog, deciding it was best to refuse to see Jessica a second time, even if only to explain the situation. She had seemed a nice enough girl and clearly she was being manipulated by his mother. It wasn’t as though he could hold that against her. He had been manipulated by his parents his entire life and still he was struggling to find a way out from under their thumbs. Still, he couldn’t ask Elio to put up with his parents ridiculous meddling, not if he hoped to have a future with him. He couldn't keep their relationship a secret either. He wouldn't. Elio meant too much to him. He deserved so much better than to live in stolen moments and behind closed doors. Oliver wasn’t ashamed of loving Elio and he never wanted to give him a second to wonder if he was. No. The only way forward was to be open with his parents about his bisexuality and accept the consequences that would come with it.

Of course, all this could be for nought if Elio decided not to pursue a relationship with Oliver after all. They hadn’t quite had a chance to clear the air properly before he’d left yesterday and Oliver worried that calling today would be too much pressure. He didn’t want to push Elio into something he wasn’t ready for. But could he really ask Elio to give him another chance while he was hiding who he was? If Elio hadn’t come back, would he have hidden his identity from his parents forever? He remembered Sophia’s words from a few weeks ago. She’d said he’d always have a family and he knew she was right. Sophia’s parents loved him; they had loved him easily. Unlike his own parents, he wasn’t at all worried about telling them about Elio. They had always stressed that their children’s happiness was important above all else. They would welcome Elio into the family as they had Oliver, and they would love him because Oliver did. Not to mention that he already loved the Perlman’s and knew they would be delighted to welcome him into the family. Sam already treated Oliver as though he were a second son.

“ _I have belonged to you since the day Anchise delivered you to our doorway._ ”

Even remembering the words, flung at him with all the passion and courage that came so naturally to Elio, made his heart race and happiness swell in his chest. He had underestimated Elio’s feelings for him. He’d always underestimated Elio, hadn’t he? Well, he was done with that. He was going to return to Connecticut and speak with his parents finally. And when he was done, he would return and offer himself to Elio without the strings his parents had been pulling for years.

Decision made, he turned for home. He had some calls to make.


End file.
